


i made ya like onigiri; next up, me

by bxmddream



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, Food, M/M, food preparation, late night onigiri session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxmddream/pseuds/bxmddream
Summary: Will Atsumu, once again, suffer humiliation? or will there be an error of judgement, born from stupid decisions made at one am on Sakusa Kiyoomi’s part, that will lead to a budding romance?-or "i want ya to taste my brother's onigiri but since ya wont eat it during the promo, i'll just barge in yer apartment at one in the morning to make them for ya"
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 228





	i made ya like onigiri; next up, me

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to [nep](https://twitter.com/sairasuki) for betaing this fic <33

Atsumu debates, for what would now be the sixth time, whether he should ring the bell or just go home and convince himself on the 5 minute train ride back that he did not go to his teammate’s apartment at one in the morning. 

He contemplates this, even though he’s already practiced on the train what to say when Sakusa opens the door. Just standing on Sakusa’s doorstep and then hightailing out would be a waste of fare, and Atsumu cannot let his soul rest knowing he’s wasted a good amount of money- he’s economical like that. It was now simply a battle between prolonging what could possibly be another rejection or risk freezing to his death. And because he is Atsumu, both options weigh just about the same when it’s his ego on the line.

He clenches the plastic in his hand, feeling the cold already nipping at his fingers, before muttering a faint  _ fuck it _ and punching the doorbell.

Tapping his toes on the floor, he waits for signs of life on the other side and makes a pact with himself. If no one answers for one minute, he’d ring the bell again. If no one answers for another minute after that, he’d ring the bell again, and still, if no one answers a minute after that, he’d go home.

Three rings, that’s what he’ll give himself before he jets out and pretends this one am escapade never happened. He figures that should be enough to prevent himself from adding this to the ongoing list of decisions he ends up losing sleep over.

He’s about to ring again when he hears faint footsteps from the other side, gradually increasing in volume before halting on the other side of the door. Atsumu presumes it’s Sakusa taking the time to peer through the peephole so he leans forward, plastering a grin that hopefully doesn’t betray the nervousness running through his veins. It passes, apparently, because the locks click and the door opens.

“What the hell are you doing here, Miya?”

Sakusa stands in sweatpants and a gray long sleeve, face bare of the usual face mask, and dark wavy hair held back by a couple barrettes- the ends curling in multiple directions save for the right side which stuck flat to his head like he’s just recently slept on it. Atsumu pretends the sight doesn’t affect him, all the while taking a mental screenshot to remember at a later date, and grins at Sakusa.

“Hey, Omi! I texted ya, didn’t I? I already bought everything we’ll need.” Atsumu raises the cellophane in his hand. Sakusa’s eyebrows wrinkle at the sight, arms crossing in front of his chest, and Atsumu tries hard not to notice the way the fabric clings tight to his muscles at the movement.

“And what’s that?”

“Oh!,” Atsumu rummages through the bag, recounting the ingredients he’d bought from the convenience store a block from his apartment. “I bought some nori sheets, katsuobushi, sesame seeds, uhh I also got umeboshi paste, just in case ya didn’t have any, though I doubt that. I also managed to steal some of Kita’s rice from Samu, some fatty tuna and a jar of his secret mayonnaise. I swear, my brother is crazy when it comes to the recipe, he won’t even tell me what’s in it cause he says i’ll blab it to everyone I meet, I mean can ya believe -”

“Wait, hold up. What- why- why did you bring all that? Here? In my apartment?” Atsumu flounders at the confusion in Sakusa’s voice.

“Huh?”

“Okay, let me rephrase. What exactly are you gonna do with all  _ that, _ ” Sakusa gestures vaguely at the bag, “that requires doing it at my apartment?”

“I texted ya. We’re making onigiri.”

Sakusa just stares at him, “What?”

Atsumu huffs in mock exasperation, “I told ya Omi, I texted ya like a bajillion times. I said I'm coming over because ya didn’t eat the onigiris Samu made for the promo today so we’re gonna make onigiri tonight and - wait, ya didn’t get them?” Atsumu fumbles for the phone in his pocket, checking to see whether he actually did press send on his messages and opens the chat to see them there, printed in black pixels on little green bubbles. He exhales a little in relief, not wanting to have unknowingly imposed on Sakusa unwanted.

“See, Omi? I texted ya. Ya even replied  _ Ok.  _ Here, see?” Atsumu thrusts the screen of his phone in front of Sakusa’s face which prompts Sakusa to lean back in apprehension, sending a glare at Atsumu, before focusing on the text, face clearing in realization.

“Oh, I thought it was a dream”, Sakusa concedes, yawning a little and rubbing the nape of his neck as Atsumu tucks his phone back in his pockets.

“So… can I come in now?” Sakusa just looks at him, assessing him, and Atsumu’s mind wanders to his earlier dilemma. He can already hear Suna’s commentary when he recounts this to him and Osamu;  _ Will Atsumu, once again, suffer humiliation? or will there be an error of judgement, born from stupid decisions made at one am on Sakusa Kiyoomi’s part, that will lead to a budding romance? Stay tuned folks for another episode of Atsumu Makes a Fool of Himself. _

“Yeah, come in.” Sakusa steps aside and Atsumu mentally screams a _Suck it, Sunarin!_. He steps inside, says a brief _Ojama shimasu,_ before taking off his coat, leaving him in a dark green sweater, and bending down to take off his shoes. Balancing on one foot, he peers up at Sakusa from his perch and grins.

“So ya dream ‘bout me, Omi?”

“Shut up.” 

Sakusa brushes past him, causing him to wobble a bit. Atsumu merely chuckles, following Sakusa down a dimly lit hall to what he assumes is the kitchen. 

It’s Atsumu’s first time being in Sakusa’s apartment and he can’t help but feel a little bit giddy at finally getting a glimpse inside the dwelling of the Black Jackals’ resident hermit. Sakusa rounds the island and goes to the sink, turning on the faucet to wash his hands. Atsumu takes the break to set the cellophane bag on the counter and survey the place some more. 

It’s pristine, as Atsumu expected of Sakusa, but unlike his expectation of it to be bare and coming out of those interior design magazines, it looks homey and well-lived. There’re a few magnets and sticky notes stuck to the fridge, a few potted plants and a fresh fruit basket on top of the counter, and an unwashed mug on the sink.

He finishes scrutinizing the space just in time to catch something thrown at him. 

“Wash your hands and use that.”

He turns over the object in his hand and sees that it’s a sanitizer. He smiles, “Yeah, sure Omi.”

Atsumu heads towards the sink, bypassing Sakusa drying his hands on a towel by the oven, and washes his hands- twice, for good measure. He squeezes a sizable dollop of sanitizer on his hands, rubbing them together as he turns around.

Sakusa is taking the contents from the bag, inspecting each item before laying it neatly on the counter. Atsumu watches this happen until the sanitizer dries in his hands and Sakusa finishes, turning to him dubiously.

“Now what?”

Atsumu reaches for the small bag by the umeboshi jar, “First, the rice.”

  
  
  


The rice cooks by the side as Sakusa and Atsumu crowd on the ingredients. Atsumu sections out the ones for the stuffing and leaves the rest by the far side. He asks Sakusa for a chopping board which he dutifully retrieves from the cupboard by the sink. 

“Do you even know how to make this?” Sakusa asks, incredulous.

“Watch and learn, Omi. Samu may be the one running a restaurant but I’m just as good a cook as he is.” Atsumu says, brandishing a knife in the air that is nowhere near safe, which Sakusa rightfully glares at him for.

Atsumu methodically prepares the stuffing, tearing the katsuobushi packet before dumping the contents in a bowl. 

He liked cooking. Their grandmother taught him and Samu after much pestering- well it was only just Osamu but Atsumu wouldn’t be caught dead not trying to one up his brother at something so they learned together. Osamu just loved it a little bit more than Atsumu.

“Omi, d’ya have soy sauce and salt? Ah, Can ya also give me a bowl of water? Thanks.”

He hears drawers opening, plates clanging, and faucet running before a bowl of water is placed on his left, soy sauce and salt following soon after.

“Thanks, Omi.”

Sakusa goes to stand on the opposite side of the island, facing Atsumu. He takes the pack of nori sheets, opening it and taking a knife, slicing each one lengthwise. Sakusa remains quiet all throughout- not like it’s something new, but unlike the tense caution that’s usually responsible for the distance he places between him and the world, he seems relaxed, which Atsumu guesses was probably because he’s in the comforts of his own home. So as usual, Atsumu does the talking.

“So ya know Akaashi-kun, Omi? That editor that used to be Bokkun’s old teammate? The one with the glasses, middle part, and pretty face?” Sakusa gives a noncommittal hum in response.

“Apparently, he and Bokkun have been going out for some time now, can ya believe it? Never even suspected it. I mean they’re literally polar opposites.” 

Atsumu pours soy sauce and salt on the katsuobushi, “Oh! and get this, Bokkun’s thinking of proposing. Yeah, he asked me and Hinata for ideas, as if we have any sort of expertise on that." He laughs, "But, it was okay, he said he already had a plan, something ‘bout a world and a star. I don't know what he was going on about honestly but, I’m pretty sure Akaashi-kun will say yes no matter what Bokkun’s gonna do.”

Atsumu finishes mixing the katsuobushi filling just as Sakusa gives another hum, the nori sheets, sliced evenly and already set in a plate. Atsumu reaches for the cooked tuna and begins tearing the meat off.

“Oh, and I heard the coach talking with Meian-san last week after practice. They were thinking of talking with Shion and Tomas because apparently they've been, and i quote, uncharacteristically aggressive with each other on court.” Atsumu finishes tearing the tuna and transfers it to a bowl. “Was terrified at first actually cause I thought they were talking ‘bout the both of us, I mean we do get a bit too competitive on court but yeah, there's so much tension around Tomas and Shion this past week, I wonder what it’s about.”

Another noncommittal hum.

“Oh and Sho-kun! Can ya believe, the guy literally went to Rio for three years and he comes back still hung-up over Tobio-kun. Guess his escapades with the Great King weren’t enough.” Atsumu says, laughing as he squeezes mayonnaise all over the tuna. “If only he knew Tobio-kun had been in and out of his mind when Sho-kun didn’t invite him over, much less text him, when we were in Rio for the olympics. I swear Omi, if they don’t end up confessing before the next olympics, I will lock them in a room and not let them out till they sort that pining out. Sheesh, we get it, yer soulmates, no need to rub it in our faces.”

Atsumu finishes making the tuna filling and sets it aside.

“You seem to know a lot about our teammates.” Sakusa arranges the bowls and plates, leaving a space big enough to work on once the rice is done.

“Course, Omi. I try to keep track of my friends.” Atsumu cleans the wrappers off the counter and tosses them in the bin by the other side of the kitchen.

“So, what do you know about me?” Atsumu halts midstep, turning to look at Sakusa and seeing that he was serious, thinks thoroughly. There’s not much that Atsumu knows about him, except for trivial things that he’s taken note of in order to avoid getting on Sakusa’s bad side, and the fact that he knows close to nothing about Sakusa makes the crush he’s nurtured the past three months feel a little childish.

“ Well, let’s see. Yer great at volleyball and a little over the top hygienic, ya refuse to sit next to anyone on the bus after a game, and yer picky when it comes to food prepared by other people. Oh! and yer cousins with Komori-kun.”

Sakusa raises a brow, and the movement is so atrocious that Atsumu wants to peel them off of his face.

“That’s it?”

Atsumu does a nod that’s part shrug that's part head tilt, “Yeah.”

“Huh.” Sakusa turns, taking a towel from the cabinet above and begins wiping down the counter. Atsumu panics, worried his inadequate response insulted Sakusa and so he does what he does best when he’s cornered— talk.

“ I mean, It’s not like I don't try to know ya more, Omi. I do, try, I mean. But, ya don’t let that many people in. Hell, I’m still quite surprised ya let me inside yer apartment.”

Sakusa stops wiping down the counter and looks at Atsumu over his shoulder, “Am I really that…?”

Atsumu shrugs, wiping his hands, that he didn’t even know we’re already clammy, on his pants, “To be honest, yeah. But, we know ya got boundaries and we respect that. Samu says I'm just being greedy again.”

“Greedy?”

“Yeah.” The implication of the admission registers a little late in Atsumu’s head, “ Ah, fuck.”

Sakusa turns to face him, back leaning against the counter, towel forgotten. “Greedy? About me?”

Atsumu rubs his hands on his face, he wants to scream and punch himself but that would make him look more unhinged than he already is, so he settles for groaning instead. He’s never really kept his crush a secret, sure, he hasn’t told Sakusa outright but he guesses it was already quite obvious. Kita had guessed it the second time he came back to Hyogo for a visit and Suna once told him after a match how obvious his pining was, both instances he’d heavily denied and protested against. He supposes he might have actually been quite obvious with his actions and so he pushes caution down the stairs.

“Yes Omi, yes.” Atsumu throws his hands in the air, because he’s dramatic like that, and says in a much lower voice, embarrassed, “Stop acting like ya have no idea.”

“I honestly don't. Enlighten me, Miya.”

Sakusa crosses his arms in front of his chest, and Atsumu tries very hard not to lose his train of thought in favor of staring at those pecs just begging for him to nuzzle. He succeeds, barely.

“Ah fuck, are ya serious? So that’s why I haven't been making any progress, yer such an oblivious bastard, Omi-omi.”

“What? why?” 

Atsumu stares at Sakusa incredulously. This man will end him, he swears.

“Okay,” Atsumu paces in front of Sakusa, thinking of all the things he did that even he admits were out of character and obvious enough to give away his feelings.

“Aha!” He points a finger accusingly at Sakusa, “ A month after you joined the Jackals, when I gave ya a brand new gym bag cuz yers accidentally ripped?”

Sakusa shrugs, batting Atsumu’s hand away, “I thought that was you welcoming me as a new member. And don’t point at me, it’s rude.”

Atsumu runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Goddamn, Omi. I don't buy a 3,000 yen gym bag for every new teammate, I don’t even buy a birthday gift for Samu. Second, the nickname?”

“Ya make them for everyone.”

“Okay, okay, good point. But, seriously? Ya really had no idea?” Atsumu gestures wildly to everything around him, “Even with all of this right now? And literally every other time where I went outta my way for ya?”

Sakusa rubs his nape, curls catching in his hands and forearm, “I- I didn't know. I thought that was just you being you.”

“What?”

Sakusa leans back on his hands and Atsumu almost wants to scream at him to  _ stop being so gorgeous, you dense fucker _ , “I mean, despite being a demanding bastard, you actually care a lot about the people close to you, I thought that applied to teammates as well. So I didn’t wanna assume anything.”

“Huh.” Atsumu feels gratified, touched that Sakusa would actually think highly of him..

“Yeah.” Sakusa says.

“Wait wait, so ya had an idea but ya just didn’t wanna recognize it?” Atsumu asks.

“Uhh, yeah, sort of.” Atsumu deflates, disappointed that Sakusa refused to acknowledge his feelings, so he plays it up to mask the hurt stinging in his chest.

“Damn Omi, ya made me sad. I did all that for ya and ya didn't even recognize it. I’m hurt.” He pouts for good measure, acting like a kid who was told he can’t have the toy his friend has.

To his credit, Sakusa does look at least a little bit remorseful about it, “Im sorry, I'm not used to being someone’s object of affection.”

Now, that Atsumu cannot believe, “Seriously? with how ya look?” Atsumu waves a hand up and down, gesturing to Sakusa,  _ the gorgeous fucker _ , “Are ya seriously telling me no one’s ever confessed to ya before or even made advances? What about Ushiwaka-chan?”

“Not that I know of. And please, Wakatoshi doesn’t even know how to talk to a kid much less flirt.” And Sakusa is back to crossing his arms on his chest, back leaning on the counter and long legs stretched out. _ Great _ , Atsumu thinks,  _ let me just tear my gaze away from yer pecs and yer arms and yer thighs... _

“Yeah, alright, I agree with the one about Ushijima but the other one, nope.” Atsumu shakes his head for emphasis, also leaning on the counter behind him, opposite Sakusa, “I bet tons of people have flirted with ya, ya probably brushed off their advances. I pity the soul.” 

“You’re literally just going through the same thing,” Sakusa grins, teasing him- looking oh so pleased with himself that Atsumu gets the urge to hold Sakusa’s face in his hands, utter a gritted  _ damn right, I am _ , and plant a bruising kiss on his mouth just to wipe that gloating look off of his face. He doesn’t.

“Shut up, Omi. At least I told ya I liked ya,” Atsumu raises his chin haughtily, to distract himself from the embarrassment, both from the whole conversation and the path his imagination took. “And unlike them, I’m yer teammate so I have three more years till yer contract renewal to sweep ya of yer feet.”

Atsumu grins, crossing his arms in front of his chest and delights at how Sakusa’s eyes linger on the movement. He, maybe, just maybe, tenses his muscles a tad bit to define them more.  _ Ha, its yer turn Omi. _

They stare at each other for a while, five feet apart (because they’re not gay, Atsumu is, though he’s not sure about Sakusa).

“So, what now, Omi?” Atsumu finally finds the courage to ask. It wasn’t that hard to muster, after all, he is Atsumu, resident thick-faced of the Black Jackals and older brother of a twin that will much rather eat a burger with pickles than waste energy complaining _ I asked for no pickles  _ at the register.

Sakusa doesn’t reply for a while. Just looks at him pensively and Atsumu drums his fingers on his forearms in anticipation.  _ Will it be yet another rejection, folks? Or by some misfortune, will the leading man relent? _

Sakusa opens his mouth.

The rice cooker dings.

“Rice.” Sakusa utters and turns away, scouring the cupboard above before procuring hot pink mittens, “The rice is done.”

Atsumu sputters, “What?”

“Onigiri, you said we’re making onigiri. So, we’re making onigiri.” Sakusa says, voice steady, seemingly unperturbed by Atsumu’s confession, as he removes the metal compartment from inside the rice cooker and sets it on the cooling rack by the side.

Atsumu is nanoseconds away from bursting in exasperation when he notices the red creeping up Sakusa’s neck and leeching onto the tips of his ears. 

He grins instead,  _ tonight may not be the night folks, but this main character will surely woo his leading man. _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> haha heyy, i quite enjoyed making this fic. The idea came from a paragraph said in passing on [my other fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479189) and, well, i thought, why not? and here it is. Anyways, thank you for reading! fly highh~


End file.
